


Want - Take - Have

by daemoninwhite



Series: The Way You Make Me Want to Live Instead of Die [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alpha Bruce Wayne, Alpha Dick Grayson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Conditioning, Drugged Sex, Forced Feminization, Grooming, Impregnation Kink, Light Bondage, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Omega Jason Todd, Pseudo-Incest, Scent Kink, Sexual Abuse, Underage Sex, Unreliable Narrator, changing an alpha into an omega, intersex omega, non-consensual semen feeding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-08-20 16:11:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16558949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daemoninwhite/pseuds/daemoninwhite
Summary: Dick presents as an alpha and eventually leaves. When Bruce takes in Jason, he decides to do everything in his power to stop history from repeating. (Bruce will never be alone again.)





	1. Intake

**Author's Note:**

> You read the tags and wound up here anyway. Future chapters will have sex in them and tags will be updated to reflect this.

Not much had changed, when Bruce finally presented as an alpha. He was already set on his path, and being an alpha could only assist with his Mission: he was able to channel his natural aggression into the intense workouts that he needed in order to be able to be the last man standing no matter what Gotham threw up against him; he had the whole, sprawling grounds of Wayne Manor as his territory; and Alfred was the very model of a beta packmate. 

And then he’d taken a date to the circus, and his life changed forever (again). 

It’s fine, at first. Better than fine. Something old healed inside of Bruce the first time that he heard Dick’s laughter echo down the hallway. If Bruce is to be entirely honest with himself, having Dick around made him happier than he’d been since his parents died.

But Dick is an alpha. They work together seamlessly before he hits puberty, and then even for a while after. He grows and he chafes against Bruce’s control – it’s natural, it’s to be expected, Bruce has prepared for this. So he gives Dick the Titans, he gives him an outlet for his dominance issues, he gives him a place where he can be in command and unquestioned. He hopes that this will show Dick the weight of such a thing, so that he will understand why Bruce has to be the alpha of Gotham, why he must be in control.

It doesn’t work. They fight and fight and fight until Dick throws up his hands and leaves.

If Bruce is to be entirely honest, it breaks his heart.

If only Dick hadn’t been an alpha, if only he’d been a beta. They had been happy, in their small pack. They’d been a family. They could have continued to be a happy family if only it weren’t for goddamned alpha dominance issues.

(Because, of course, their fights weren’t Bruce’s fault, they were the result of something neither of them could control or curtail, it was out of their hands.)

He returns to Crime Alley on the anniversary of his parents’ death, and some little, punk of a child steals the tyres off the Batmobile. When Batman confronts him, he doesn’t cower in fear.

He smacks Bruce in the stomach with the tyre iron, swears at him, and runs off.

Bruce can’t help it. He throws his head back and laughs.

(He’ll never consciously know it, but this is the moment when he swears to keep this child by his side forever. He _laughs_ in _Crime Alley_ \- he’s never going to give up whatever it is that made him do that.)

He hunts the child down and makes a token effort at gifting him to someone else. But by either coincidence or just Gotham’s natural tendency for corruption, he forces the boy into a worse position than he had been in before. It had been his choice to turn to thievery, which was the morally incorrect choice, but when he’s forced to it, the lack of agency turns Bruce’s stomach.

By the end of the month, there’s another child in Wayne Manor, and both Bruce and Alfred are delighted to have him.

Bruce runs a blood test as part of Jason’s general medical check-up, and his heart sinks. Jason is an alpha.

Bruce cannot—will not—allow history to repeat. There will be no struggles for dominance, either in the field or at home, not this time. Robin _will_ listen to him. Robin won’t get hurt.

(Robin won’t leave.)

There are multiple ways to turn alphas into betas or into omegas. Sometimes things don’t line up as a person believes that they should. Bruce doesn’t think that there’s anything wrong with those ways – but they’re all so distant, so clinical, so chemical. They’d need shots and surgeries and Bruce’s heart sinks into his stomach at the thought of Jason laid out on a surgical table, just a step removed from lying on a mortuary slab.

(And they’re all so obvious.)

(They’d force him to wait until Jason was an adult, until his body had settled into itself. Bruce can’t wait that long. He can’t take that risk.)

There are older ways to turn alphas into omegas. It wasn’t always convenient to have two alpha children vying for position of heir. This process can be started earlier, before the individual has completed puberty – enough exposure to alpha hormones, when the body is still young and malleable, will trick it into believing that there’s an overabundance of alphas and that they need mates now. It will awaken latent organs, will mould the growing body into something far more receptive. 

Of course, these days it’s considered child abuse, and no one would do it, but.

Bruce weighs the situation against their future projected happiness (all of them, not just him, this isn’t a decision he’s making out of selfishness), and decides.

He doesn’t tell Alfred what Jason is/was/will not be. He leaves gaps and implies that it’s Jason’s body and Jason’s privacy, and Alfred leaves well enough alone. When Jason asks, he simply says that everything came back normal, and ruffles Jason’s hair. Bruce researches traumatised omegas’ responses to domestic violence, he looks at website after website that imply – that state that Jason’s behaviour _is_ because he is a terrified omega desperately fronting, not because he’s a fledgling alpha. He hides the information just not well enough that he knows Dick will be able to stumble across it when he comes sniffing around for information on the new bird flying at Batman’s side.

Dick’s behaviour noticeably softens around Jason, he’s clingier and more forgiving of slights, and he even takes Bruce aside to chastise him for not looking after Jason better. Bruce allows his pride to shine in his eyes when he promises Dick that he will, and Dick allows Bruce to scent-mark him before he leaves.

It’s not like Bruce is hurting Jason. If other people can look at a list of symptoms and see Jason’s behaviour in them, then it’s not Bruce projecting on to Jason. Jason is clearly meant to be an omega. He’s just preventing Jason from going through years of heartache as he tries to reconcile what he feels with what his body is. Jason is just acting all butch because he thinks that’s what he has to be. It will all be fine, he’ll see soon enough that he doesn’t have to front, that he’s safe here, that nothing will hurt him ever again.

Bruce doesn’t condition Jason. He simply treats Jason gently. He encourages the behaviour he wants to see and punishes that which he doesn’t – just like he did with Dick. He never hits Jason – would never, could never bring himself to lift a hand to Jason – and instead simply withdraws verbal and physical affection whenever Jason acts too alpha. He rewards him – is nigh on cuddly – when Jason acts appropriately. Jason, sweet boy that he is, is clever enough to catch on quickly. Bruce doesn’t think it’s a conscious thing – clearly it’s Jason’s natural behaviour bubbling to the surface now that he doesn’t have to worry about what will happen if the lowlifes that live in Crime Alley find out that there’s a fledgling omega in their midst and he’s safe and warm and fed. Bruce gifts Jason many things, books, of course, any that Jason so much as glances twice at, but also soft things, plush things, not lace (Jason will never be that type of omega, and that’s fine with Bruce, even if he thinks wistfully of the traditional omega debutant gown carefully kept somewhere) but silks and velvet and cashmere things. 

(The look on Jason’s face the first time Bruce gifts him with the softest blanket that he can find – all big eyes and blushing cheeks peeking over the edge of the blanket as if to say, ‘is this really for me?’ absolutely destroys any lingering trace of guilt or chance of self-control that Bruce could feel.)

He slowly, slowly cuts back on Jason’s Robin time, using Jason’s schoolwork as an excuse again and again. Jason doesn’t argue, he loves school, loves learning; in fact, him begging off patrol in favour of extra credit homework one night is what gives Bruce the idea in the first place. Bruce treats Jason like a treasured omega, like the heart of the pack, and everything and everyone falls into place around him.

Bruce feeds Jason his come. It’s the easiest and gentlest way to get Jason the concentration of alpha hormones that his body needs to start on growing his true self. He mixes it into pre-patrol protein shakes, into his food, his drink, anything that will disguise the taste or that Jason will write off as just naturally tasting that way. It becomes easier as time goes on and Jason starts to enjoy the flavour, he doesn’t have to go to such lengths to hide it from him. He watches in concealed delight and relief as Jason slowly changes, not just in mannerisms but in body. It could be chalked up to a delayed puberty now brought about by access to plentiful food, but Bruce knows better. Jason starts to gain fat as easily as he did muscle, and it settles across his hips and thighs and chest. Omegas, even omega boys, tend to look lush and inviting, and Jason is steadily revealed as a textbook perfect ideal of an omega. Bruce can’t help but smile as he looks at Jason and can so clearly see the effect that he has had on him. 

In the decreasing time that Jason spends as Robin, thugs hesitate to attack him, and instead become cruder and filthier in the threats and names that they call out. Batman and Robin are separated one night and by the time he finds Jason, Jason has been tied down, his tunic undone and his panties slipped down over his rear.

Batman is especially vicious that night. When he comes out of his blind rage, he’s almost regretful – and then he spots the way Jason shakes where he’s tucked up safe under Bruce’s cape, sees the bruises flare up on Jason’s inner thighs, and thinks that he didn’t do enough.

He gives Jason a milkshake when they return to the cave, and watches that cute, pink, little tongue dart out to lick the milky glaze off his bottom lip, and thinks that Jason would probably suck his come from his fingers, now.

There’s an incident with Slade and Dick, and Bruce is equal parts furious at the thought that someone else almost had Jason, and delighted at the clear fact that they’re so _close_.

And then the most wonderful thing happens.

The incident with Dick proves that Jason is so, so close to becoming what he was always meant to be. He just needs one, last push. Bruce’s come-laced food doesn’t provide enough of a kick anymore and Bruce wracks his brain to try and come up with a solution when one falls into his lap.

Beautiful, perfect Poison Ivy strikes. It’s a large-scale attack, she’s managed to coerce people into spreading her seeds all over Gotham, and despite every part of Bruce screaming to have Jason tucked up safe at home, Batman needs Robin by his side. He even calls in Nightwing and Batgirl. 

The difficulty in the fight does not lie in it being particularly difficult, it’s simply so much area to cover that things descend into chaos very quickly. Bruce doesn’t know how long it’s been before he looks down at his side and Jason isn’t there.

The next while is a blur. Later, with meditation, he’ll recall flashes of fire, weed-killer, and the thick, fresh smell of plant-death thick in his lungs, and through it all a deep, bloodthirsty rage that screams that someone stole his omega.

They burn their way into Ivy’s inner sanctum and she has Jason curled up on her lap, his little body limp against hers.

“Return Robin,” Batman snarls. He knows that he’s pouring out alpha aggression every way he can, he knows that he’s escalating the situation, but the sight of another person’s hands on his omega – someone who isn’t pack, someone who has proven to be a deadly threat – destroys any chance he had of regaining enough control to think beyond the raging of alpha instincts.

Ivy smirks, tilts Jason’s head up, and kisses him.

Bruce goes away for a time and all that is left is the alpha.

He comes back to himself in the cave, curled around Jason on a cot in the med bay. They’re both still in full costume, still covered in bits of plant, and Bruce has wet blood on his gauntlets. He can’t bring himself to care. Jason shakes, tucked up in a ball against Bruce’s chest. He absolutely reeks of heat.

“Jason,” Bruce purrs and drags his fingers gently through Jason’s curls, careful with his claws so that they just scratch instead of draw blood. “Sweetheart, it’s alright, you’re safe now.”

Jason rubs his forehead back and forth against the Bat on Bruce’s chest, and Bruce’s body floods with the need to feel him, skin to skin. He tugs off his gauntlets and gently works his fingers under Jason’s mask and pulls it off without pinching at the delicate skin around his eyes. Still, Jason makes a high, hurting sound and buries his face back in Bruce’s chest. Bruce pets as much of him as he can, feels a little frantic, a little out of it, and gets them as naked as he can without taking both hands off Jason at once or disturbing their position too much. He mainly manages to remove only his body armour and leave the actual suit, but he does get Jason mostly naked.

“What do you need, dearest?” He asks as though his nose and throat and lungs aren’t full of the scent of a fertile omega in heat.

“I’m so-sorry!” Jason cries. “I thought – I thought, I didn’t know I was a ‘mega, promise!”

Bruce coos and strokes Jason’s shoulders, digs his thumbs slightly into the muscle there. “It’s alright, it isn’t your fault.”

“Yes it is!” Jason thumps a fist against Bruce’s chest. It’s adorable, it doesn’t hurt at all. “I can’t be what you need now! Robin can’t be a stupid omega!”

Bruce growls, he can’t stop himself. Jason flinches away and he grabs Jason’s chin and pulls up until they can look each other in the eye. “There’s nothing wrong with being an omega. I’d rather have you, safe and healthy, than for you to be out there somewhere sick and tired and pretending to be something that you aren’t.”

Jason whines, his eyes glaze over. Bruce perhaps put too much alpha command behind that. It will equal out. 

He gentles his touch, rubs his hands down Jason’s arms as platonically as he can when every part of his brain is screaming to touch and take and knot and claim and _breed_. “What do you need?”

Jason looks at him, big eyes, plush mouth, and in Bruce’s peripheral vision he can see the adorable swell of Jason’s breasts. The curves and dips of his waist and hips and thighs fit perfectly against Bruce’s. “I’m in heat.”

“I know.” It kills him, but he must offer, even if only to say that he did. “Do you want me to get Dick?”

Jason snarls, strikes, sinks his sweet little omega fangs into the scent gland at the base of Bruce’s throat. He draws back and licks up the oil slick that lingers on his lips, and Bruce falls completely in love.

“I want it to be you, Bruce.” He breathes deeply. “Alpha.”

“Yes,” Bruce snarls and rolls Jason protectively beneath his body.

This is how Bruce gets everything he ever wanted. This is how Batman takes Robin’s virginity. This is the last time that Robin is seen on Gotham’s streets. This is how Bruce takes what he needs and Jason gladly gives it to him.


	2. Constantly on the Cusp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce makes love to Jason.

“Everything is alright,” Bruce says in what he hopes passes for a soothing tone and doesn’t come out as avaricious as he truly feels. “Slow, deep breaths, chum, the heatwave will pass.”

His hands feel so big and unwieldy compared to Jason’s fine-boned form. Jason’s so small, and even though Alfred’s cooking and Bruce’s work out routines have managed to layer fat and muscle on his bones, he’s still so tiny compared to Bruce’s fully grown alpha body. Their size difference allows Bruce to cover Jason up completely, lets him prevent anyone else from seeing Jason in this state, and so he’s glad for it, but at the same time, Jason feels so delicate, so breakable.

Jason’s already noticeably hot to the touch. Ivy typically calibrates her poison for an adult, Bruce has no way of knowing if she took Robin’s size difference into account when she kissed him, and Bruce has no intention of allowing someone to take Jason away from him for however long it would take to run a blood test. There’s one guaranteed cure for a heat, whether natural or brought on by chemical means, and Jason has already chosen Bruce to see him through.

Bruce cups that little face, rubs his thumbs against the scent glands underneath Jason’s chin. Jason has the thickest, curliest eyelashes that Bruce has ever seen, it makes him look so innocent. Bruce smiles and presses a delicate kiss to the corner of Jason’s eye, to the middle of his forehead, and, with a thrill of arousal, a quick, chaste kiss to his sweet mouth.

Jason sighs and opens up underneath him like a flower to the sun, and just that trusting action is nearly enough to tip Bruce over into rut. He hangs on to his self-control by the thinnest thread – makes a mental note to grab a suppressant on the way up to the Manor proper. Jason is too young and too inexperienced as an omega to handle Bruce in a full rut.

(That will come later.)

“Come on, dear heart. I don’t want to do this here.”

There’s a certain rightness to the thought of Batman taking Robin here, in the cave where everything began. But this isn’t just Batman and Robin, it’s also Bruce and Jason. Bruce has been dreaming of this for far too long to simply take Jason’s virginity in the cave. He’d wanted a long discussion where he could slowly work Jason into an aroused frenzy and then to take his hand and lead him to the master bedroom, where he’d have scattered candles and rose petals and he’d take Jason on a bed of the softest, warmest linens money could buy. He can’t spare the prep time to do that, but he can make love to Jason in the master bedroom on bedsheets that smell of himself and comfort and home, can fling the windows wide open and let moonlight stream over them. He won’t allow Jason to think back on this and wonder if he had been hidden away like some dirty secret. Bruce finally has his omega and he wants to shout that from every rooftop in Gotham, to tell everyone he meets, to buy up every billboard in every county.

Someone clears their throat. Bruce rolls off the bed, shoves Jason behind him and raises a Batarang. Alfred raises a sardonic eyebrow and holds out a tray containing two syringes.

“Birth control for the young master and a rut suppressant for you, Master Bruce.”

Jason leans out from behind Bruce, just enough so that part of his torso and head can be seen. “Thanks Alfie.”

Bruce clears his throat and forces down the instinct screaming at him that Alfred is a threat. Alfred would lay down his life before allowing himself to be used to harm Bruce or his boys. “Thank you, Alfred.”

“I have taken the liberty of stocking your bedroom with everything you should need to see Master Jason through his heat.”

Bruce can’t see any judgement on Alfred’s face – not that he’d necessarily be able to see any even if Alfred did disapprove – and knows that this is as close to Alfred’s blessing as he’s going to get. In lieu of responding to the statement, he turns, keeps his body between Alfred’s and Jason’s, and tucks his cape around Jason, leaving one arm free. He picks up Jason, cradles Jason to his body by hooking an arm around Jason’s back and under his knees. Jason tucks his head into Bruce’s neck and Bruce pets him. Jason doesn’t deal well with needles, and it shows how much he has grown that he allows this to happen; Bruce is so proud. Alfred’s mouth twitches down for a second – not in disapproval for how Bruce is holding Jason, he doesn’t think, but in sad acknowledgement of the scars that Jason’s arrested childhood, and the circumstances of his mother’s death, has left. 

Bruce murmurs something inane and comforting as Alfred gently takes Jason’s arm, disinfects the crook of his elbow, and injects him with the birth control. Jason whines from the moment the alcohol swab touches his skin to when Alfred tapes a cotton ball against the injection site, and Bruce buries his face in Jason’s hair, torn between the knowledge that this is essential for Jason to come out of his heat unimpregnated, and the knowledge that he is part of what is causing his omega a considerable amount of distress.

Alfred looks at Bruce and Bruce nods, shifts Jason around so that Alfred can strip Bruce out of the top half of the Batsuit under armour. When Bruce is sufficiently undressed, he holds out his arm, uses his head to keep Jason from looking. The last thing Jason needs right now is to see a parental figure using a syringe. Alfred is a professional and there’s only the slightest sting. 

Alfred tapes down a cotton ball to prevent continuing bleeding, and steps back. “If that will be all, Master Bruce?”

Bruce nods again. “Thank you.”

Alfred shoots Jason a fond look that Jason doesn’t see, too busy exploring the sweat and scent that gathered behind Bruce’s ears when he uses the cowl, and leaves.

Now Bruce has his arms full of a headstrong omega who believes that his alpha has been injured. He can’t help but chuckle as Jason squirms free, ditches the cape, and then proceeds to climb all over him, sniffing and licking any place that he deems insufficiently protected. Bruce hums and pets Jason as Jason works his way across Bruce’s trapezius, and eventually settles with his legs wrapped around Bruce’s waist.

“To bed now, Jaylad,” Bruce murmurs.

“Yes.”

Bruce carries his omega up to their bedroom.

Bruce habitually sleeps on black sheets. Alfred had tried to stick it out with white at first – white was much easier to bleach – but it got to the point where he threw up his hands and swapped to black. Bruce can’t decide if he’s glad of it or not. Whilst he has dreamt of taking Jason on a bed of white, Jason blushing and squirming and reticent in the face of pleasure until Bruce overwhelms him, there’s something to tipping Jason back onto a sea of black. His eyes seem to glow. He looks like some ethereal, fae creature, limned by moonlight.

He truly is the most beautiful person that Bruce has ever seen.

“You are the most beautiful person I have ever had the privilege of laying eyes on,” he solemnly informs Jason. 

He thinks that Jason might blush, but the important thing is that he smiles so wide that his eyes crinkle up into happy little crescents. “Just have sex with me already, alpha.”

He leans down and kisses Jason, beyond delighted that he is finally allowed to do this. “As you wish, darling.”

He doesn’t know where to start. He feels like a man who has crawled through the desert only to crest a dune and find himself staring at the lushest oasis that has ever existed. Does he dare drink from the crystal-clear water? Should he partake of the fig trees, branches bowing under the weight of ripe fruit? He presses kisses to the corners of Jason’s mouth, nips at the point of his chin, runs his tongue over the scent glands under his jaw. He kisses the shells of Jason’s ears, repays Jason’s earlier behaviour by sucking at the skin behind his earlobes, mouths his way down Jason’s neck and nibbles along his collarbones. Jason giggles and sighs and twists under him, the smell of his arousal perfuming the air.

Bruce takes a second, safe in the moonlight and his bed, to be grateful for every moment that has led to this one.

“You are exquisite.”

He draws one of Jason’s arms up to his mouth so that he may kiss along it until he reaches Jason’s hand. He kisses Jason’s palm and each finger and nips the fleshy base of his thumb.

“Mon amour,” he whispers with a thrill of mischievousness, and kisses back up Jason’s arm. Jason snorts and smacks his face, pushes his mouth away, but Bruce isn’t a brilliant tactician for nothing, and retaliates by opening his mouth and sucking on Jason’s fingers.

Jason moans. Bruce does as well, though his is muffled – his omega tastes like sweat and leather and the Robin costume.

(He has a vivid flash of a quiet patrol, of sliding Robin’s gauntlets off on an empty rooftop, of getting Robin’s fingers good and wet and guiding them deep into his cunt, of watching as Robin fingerfucks himself until he comes.)

(Robin will never fly again after tonight, and he spares a wistful moment for the fantasy that will never come true.)

He slides Jason’s fingers out of his mouth and kisses them before gently placing Jason’s hand down next to his head. He doesn’t tell Jason to keep them there, he wants Jason to feel free to explore, but he will also take this night to explore every part of Jason’s body that he allows Bruce to.

He traces the lines of Jason’s ribs around his body until he can rest his hand between Jason’s shoulder blades and press up on his spine ever so slightly. He forces Jason’s back to arch just enough that his cute, little tits are thrust up towards him. They’re not even a handful, but they’re so soft and sweet, skin finer than silk, and his adorable nipples perk up when Bruce breathes out over them.

“Alphaaa,” Jason whines, tangles his hands in Bruce’s hair and _tugs_ , hard. Bruce groans and sucks nearly Jason’s entire breast into his mouth. He pulls back, scraps his teeth over the skin as he does, and mouths and bites Jason’s nipple. Jason jackknifes up around Bruce’s head, cries out, and Bruce purrs and kisses his nipple in apology before kissing his way over to Jason’s other breast. This one he bites and sucks at, leaves fledgling hickies in his wake, and Jason’s hands clench and tug in his hair in delicious rhythm to the bites. It feels fantastic.

“I love you as certain dark things are to be loved, in secret, between the shadow and the soul,” Bruce confesses to the thin skin of Jason’s sternum. He makes his way down Jason’s body, sets his teeth against the muscle taught over Jason’s ribs, and nuzzles into the fuzzy-sweet swell of his stomach. Jason pets what parts of Bruce’s face that he can reach, and Bruce spares a moment, rubs his face in Jason’s treasure trail, fancies that he can feel the rise of Jason’s womb under his cheek. He lays a multitude of kisses there, to let Jason’s womb know that it is loved and wanted and to reassure it that one day it will be full to bursting with Bruce’s child.

And then Jason spread his legs wide and Bruce is presented with the most delicious sight. He cannot stop himself from moaning. Jason has bloomed, the seam between his legs has opened to reveal the sweetest, plushest cunt that Bruce has ever had the pleasure of observing. There are traces of blood on his raw edged and Bruce needs to lick him clean, to chase away any lingering pain until this night drowns in pleasure in Jason’s memories.

“May I?”

Jason huffs. “Yes,” he hisses out, the ‘s’ elongating and sibilant and like a sigh itself.

Bruce buries his face between Jason’s thighs. He licks up the blood first, revelling in the taste of Jason’s blood and what slick Jason’s pussy has already leaked. It’s salty and musky and _good_. He nuzzles into Jason’s folds, sucks and licks and swallows what Jason gifts him.

“You are divine,” he murmurs. Jason squirms and kicks at Bruce’s shoulder. Bruce takes it as the encouragement it is and drags his tongue from the base of Jason’s cunt up to the base of his cock. There’s an old-fashioned belief that male omegas should only derive pleasure from their vaginas, but Bruce has never been the type of man so fragile as to shy away from another’s cock, and he’s aware that only approximately 30% of omegas can orgasm from penetration alone. He fully intends to play with Jason’s (very cute) cock as well, but Jason’s cunt is so fresh that every one of Bruce’s movements sends Jason twisting away and towards his mouth, and Bruce can’t bring himself to pull away.

Bruce cups Jason’s ass and lifts him up, tilts his cunt at a better angle and settles in. Any movement that makes Jason cry out he repeats until Jason is a writhing, moaning mess of nerves. Bruce shifts his weight, frees one hand and slides two fingers deep into Jason’s new pussy. It is sinfully warm and clenches in welcome and Jason absolutely gushes slick when Bruce manages to rub his fingers over just the right spot.

“Alpha!” Jason screams to the ceiling.

Bruce cannot take any more.

He leans back, wet down to his chin with Jason’s slick. He slides one of Jason’s thighs up onto his shoulder and presses the head of his cock to Jason’s cunt.

“Alpha!” Jason squeals.

Bruce leans his forehead into the crook of Jason’s knee and takes several deep, shuddering breaths. “Tell me,” he manages to choke out before his control snaps and he rolls his hips ever so slightly so that his cock just dips into Jason’s cunt.

Jason moans, high pitched and shocked, shakes, and turns to liquid. Bruce rocks slowly in and out, steadily deeper, encouraging this sweet, new cunt to conform to his size. He doesn’t want to hurt Jason, never wants to hurt him, will not allow Jason to be hurt in this moment.

Time seems to stretch. Every one of Bruce’s senses focuses on the cunt he slides into. It takes years but Jason takes Bruce’s entire cock. When Bruce is pressed up as close to Jason as he can ever be, he could swear that he feels their hearts beat in sync.

“Bruce,” Jason whispers.

“Jason,” Bruce response reverently.

“Now, Bruce.”

Bruce obeys. He takes Jason, makes love to him under the caress of the moonlight. Bruce has had sex many times before and it has never felt like this. Like a sacrament. Like every part of them is made to fit the other. Jason is small but his face lacks any trace of pain as he takes Bruce’s cock. Jason should be burning up with heat right now – it might be Bruce’s imagination but he could swear that Jason’s cunt is almost fever hot – but he simply lies there like he senses what this is as well. He smiles up at Bruce, eyes liquid in the dark. He mouths something, Bruce is too far gone to understand what, and Bruce kisses Jason’s knee and every part of his leg that he can reach.

They rock together unhurriedly.

The pleasure that mounts in Bruce’s gut almost feels like a betrayal. He feels like he should exist in this second forever, always, always tending to his omega, but his flesh and blood has other plans. He reaches down and rubs his thumb over the generous stretch where his cock sinks into Jason’s body. Jason clenches and grins ferally. Bruce returns the expression, knows he looks unhinged, and drags his fingers up until he can curl them around Jason’s dick and jerks him off in time with Bruce’s thrusts.

Jason throws his head back and nearly screams and the look on his face, such transported pleasure, the smell of him, the sight of that smooth, unmarked neck, tosses Bruce over the cliff. His knot begins to swell and it’s less than half a dozen thrusts before he’s too big to pull it back out and they’re tied together. He caresses the delicate skin under the head of Jason’s cock and Jason sighs, long and low, and comes over his fingers, his cunt spasming around Bruce’s knot. The feel of his come spilling into Jason’s body for the first time is ... divine.

“Beloved,” he whispers and slides his come-covered fingers into Jason’s mouth.

Jason sucks on them obediently, mindlessly, and when they’re clean Bruce kisses his knee for the final time this round, and rearranges them so that Jason’s legs are locked around Bruce’s waist.

“I know, I know, darling, forgive me,” he murmurs every time his knot accidentally tugs at Jason’s muscles. “Hold on,” he instructs and rolls them over so that Jason is curled up on top of Bruce. It might not be the best position for conception, but they’re not trying for a pup this year, and this is supposed to be the most comfortable position for a knotted omega. Jason sighs and snuggles, grabs one of Bruce’s arms and tugs it around his waist. Bruce laces their fingers together and kisses the back of Jason’s hand.

They lay in silence together. Bruce runs his free hand over every part of Jason that he can reach, and Jason drags his fingers through Bruce’s sweat-matted chest hair, draws first the Bat and then meaningless swirls.

Finally, Jason clears his throat. “I know what the papers’re gonna say,” he mutters. Bruce doesn’t stop stroking his back. “They’re gonna say that you adopted your very own omega whore so that you didn’t have’ta pay anymore.”

Bruce runs his hand up Jason’s spine until he can cup the back of Jason’s head and pulls him up a little so that they can kiss. He makes it slow and lingering, bites Jason’s bottom lip gently when they part. “Jason, it doesn’t matter what they say. We know the truth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My goal for this chapter was to write the absolute sweetest smut ever - you gotta just keep reminding yourself that Jason is a) Bruce's son b) underaged and c) Bruce nonconsensually changed Jason's gender and fully intends to get a pup on him asap.


	3. Got a Body like an Hourglass it's Ticking like a Clock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aforementioned incident between Dick, Slade and Jason.

Dick lasts all of two hours patrolling with Robin before he makes up an excuse for them to separate. It’s not Robin’s fault, he’s a good partner, Bruce has trained him in Dick’s fighting style enough that they mesh relatively well, considering it’s the first time Bruce has let Dick take his new bird for a flight, but. Dick’s always had a couple of wires crossed, fights always get him more worked up. Bruce slakes his aggression on Gotham’s streets and comes home nearly purring in satisfaction, but Dick just spirals tighter and tighter – too many years by Bruce’s side has left him thinking of Gotham in its entirety as Bruce’s territory, and exerting his dominance over another’s territory just leaves him feeling like he’s painting a target between his shoulder blades. He keeps searching the shadows for Bruce to come and kick his ass for thinking that he could try and tame any part of Gotham. 

All his alpha instincts are on high alert, looking for a threat that won’t come because Bruce OK’d this, and then there’s Robin, smelling like pack and almost omega and looking like an absolute bombshell in Dick’s colours and it’s just too much.

So he pretends that he’s got a lead and sends Robin on a snipe hunt on the other side of the city.

He leans against a gargoyle and just breathes. Bruce is almost fully healed and should be back in the field any day now, and then Dick can go home and stop thinking about how the Robin short pants had flaunted Jason’s thighs.

And then he gets a kick to the back of the knee. He collapses, turns it into a forward roll, twists and turns and comes up to face his attacker and swears. 

Fucking _Deathstroke_.

The ensuing fight is been short, brutal, and decidedly one-sided – Dick needs to be on the absolute top of his game to have a chance of taking Deathstroke on and he can’t seem to slip into that mindset. He runs at the mouth and dodges the worst of Slade’s punches, but then he gets a lucky hit in at Dick’s gut and before he knows it, Dick’s got a strained shoulder, a maybe-sprained ankle, and he’s trussed up over Slade’s shoulders like he’s a fucking Thanksgiving turkey. 

“Seriously?” he wheezes once he’s got enough breath back. Mouthing off comes before conserving oxygen. He’s Nightwing, he’s got a reputation to uphold.

“Seriously,” Slade deadpans back. 

Dick winces. Slade doesn’t usually take that sort of tone with him. He runs through his mental rolodex of people who are in Gotham and could be on Deathstroke’s shit list. “Someone stiff you on a payment?”

Slade snorts. “Kid, if someone had the balls to try that, they wouldn’t still be breathing.”

Dick winces. He checks Slade out as best he can from the position he’s in – he doesn’t see any blood on Slade, but since this is Deathstroke, that doesn’t mean much.

“If you’ve killed in Batman’s territory, he’s going to hunt you down.”

Slade doesn’t respond, just kicks open the roof access door and takes the elevator to the bottom floor. Dick can’t even think of something to say. He’d expected a grappling hook, or maybe Slade just tying him up and leaving him on the roof. That Slade is moving him to a secondary location is Not Good. There’s a couple of people in the lobby when they exit the elevator, but while they glance up from whatever it is that they’re doing, no one says anything. This is Gotham, after all. Caped business stays with the capes. Dick’s torn between relief and mild annoyance. He doesn’t want a civilian to get in Deathstroke’s way, but come on, can’t someone at least look concerned on his behalf?

They get halfway down the street before Dick can’t take the silence any more. “So why are you here?” It’s fairly reasonable, he thinks, considering that Dick’s now a part of whatever nefarious deed Slade’s been contracted to carry out tonight.

“None of your business kid.”

A Deathstroke that’s not willing to banter with Nightwing is a dangerous Deathstroke.

Slade enters a random brownstone and walks up the stairs. Dick would be willing to swear before a judge that he purposefully bounces Dick as he does, just so that his shoulders dig awkwardly into Dick.

He coughs. “Have I told you lately that you’re a complete asshole?”

Slade throws Dick onto a bed.

OK, this is a bad sign.

Dick tucks his legs under his body, thinks to spring up and out and get some distance between the two of them, but Slade’s quicker, elbows Dick in the stomach (again) and shoves his palm up against the underside of Dick’s chin. Dick’s mouth snaps closed and his head flies back and smacks against the headboard.

Things go blurry for a critical moment. He’s vaguely aware of the taste of blood in his mouth and that Slade has said something.

Slade grabs his wrists and zip ties them to opposite bed posts.

Dick resists the urge to shake his head to clear it and instead swallows his blood, prods at where he’d bitten his mouth. “If you wanted to get me into bed you could’ve just asked. My safe word is _let me go now, Slade_.”

Dick’s an alpha. Rumour has it that Slade’s into alphas. They’ve certainly sarcastically/creepy flirted with one another enough over the years. Dick was raised by a circus and then Batman and his first serious partners were Batgirl and Starfire. He’s got a warped sense of what’s appropriate and an appreciation for partners who can keep up with him, and.

He can’t stop thinking of Robin. Of the one thing in this city that’s branded as belonging to him. This time last year Dick would have put good money on Jay presenting as an alpha. He had both the temperament and the scent, baby-child-maybe-alpha confusing like milk and pepper in Dick’s nose. But alpha boys don’t grow tits like Jason has. Not that the blossoming curves of his baby brother are supposed to draw Dick’s attention.

They’re supposed to be family, for all they’ve spent a hot second together before tonight. Dick wants to blame animal instincts only caring about blood relation, but a discreet enquiry Roy’s way had confirmed that Oliver has only ever looked at him like a sire looks at a pup, not like how an alpha looks at an omega. There’s nothing that’s conveniently beyond Dick’s control to explain the way he feels. It’s all him and his own damned lack of control. Or maybe it’s a sign that Dick’s subconsciously rejecting Jason from the pack, which is even worse. Jay basically haemorrhages the need to belong to something, and Dick had missed having a big pack, so why can’t he accept Jason?

It’s been like this from the start, really. The first time Dick met Jason, Dick had been so furious with Bruce over something that he’d barely noticed the new Robin lurking at the back of the cave, except as convenient ammunition to verbally hurl at Bruce. Jason hadn’t done anything. Dick’s initial feelings about Jason had nothing to do with Jason as a person, and all to do with Dick projecting onto him, which, yeah, was pretty shitty of him, Dick can admit that now, but he’d just been so angry. And Jason … Jason had just been this normal kid. Just a kid from the slums. Stick thin, too-small, smelling like he was without a pack. There are dozens of kids that fit that description in the Narrows. After he’d stormed out of the Manor, he’d been venting to Kori about it, and realised that he probably couldn’t pick Jason out of a police line up if he tried.

His anger had cooled and he’d started to feel guilty, so he’d gone for a second visit with the primary goal of bonding with his new baby brother (and avoiding Bruce). Everything had been different. Jason had started filling out, both in expected and unexpected ways. He’d grown a few inches, was flush with health, and was comfortable enough with Dick to hover within arms’ reach as they’d bantered. It took all of Dick’s self-control to keep up the façade of cool older bro and not bury his face into Jason’s curly hair. Roy smells like comfort, like omega, like metal and the oil he uses to maintain his bow. Kori smells like spice and fire and alien. Jason…

Jason smells like home. Like everything Dick never realised that he loves the scent of. He smells like Alfred’s cooking and leather and books and maybe-omega and not-mine-but-pack. 

(Dick wants Jason to smell like he belongs to Dick. He wakes up from dream of pushing those newly-muscular thighs apart and fucking inwards until everything smells like leather and books and hishishis.)

(Dick used to hole up in the Manor for his ruts. He stopped, after that second visit.)

“You still with me, boy?”

Slade sounds like he’s thoroughly amused. Asshole. “Was recovering from having to look at your costume for so long. Does anyone honestly take you seriously when you walk in wearing bright orange pirate reject boots?” Dick tilts his head, leans towards Slade with a smirk. “Do you like how swashbuckling they make you feel?”

Slade opens his mouth and freezes. He tilts his head towards the window. Dick strains to hear anything familiar – the snap of a cape in the wind, the scratch of a grappling hook on roof tiles. He’ll never hear the end of it if Batman finds out that he’d been jumped by Deathstroke because he’d been too horny to pay attention to his surroundings.

But what climbs through the window isn’t the Bat.

It’s his little bird.

“Robin! No—get away!”

Dick throws his weight against the zip ties but Deathstroke is across the room is five big steps. Robin fights back – Dick snarls as Deathstroke grabs Robin’s wrists – Jason kicks out at Slade’s groin and uses the momentum to flip around and tries to roll Slade over his shoulders – Slade just snort and drops a wrist and squeezes the back of Jason’s neck.

Jason freezes and whines like a hurt puppy. Like a hurt _omega_.

A snarl tears out of Dick’s throat that he’s never made before. It hurt.

It could never hurt as much as the sight of Slade’s hands on Jason’s thin neck.

That’s something that should be for pack only – for Jason’s future alpha only – and Deathstroke has just.

There’s laws against touching the neck of an omega who isn’t pack.

Dick thrashes against his restraints. He’s vaguely aware that it hurts, that they’re cutting into the places where he’s sacrificed armour for movement, but his vision has narrowed to that strip of skin and Deathstroke’s filthy hands where they don’t belong.

“I’ll kill you,” he snarls.

Deathstroke chuckles. “Calm down birdie, I’m bringing him to you.”

He tosses Jason on top of Dick. Jason lands, doesn’t try to catch himself, is as limp as a doll. Dick rubs his face over what parts of Jason he can reach, frantic to replace the scent of threat and foreign alpha with his own.

Jason twitches. “Ni’win’?”

“Yeah, it’s me, it’s OK, you’re OK, he won’t touch you-”

“Don’t go around making promises that you can’t keep.” Slade sits down next to them on the bed.

Dick growls again, wraps his legs around Jason and pulls him as close as he can, tries to form a physical barrier between Jason and Deathstroke. “I mean it, Slade. Do that again and I’ll-”

Slade snorts. “We both know you’re too much of a hero to try and do any permanent damage.”

“Try me.”

Slade leans over them and Dick jerks forward, snaps his teeth in ineffectual threat. Slade spares a moment to stare at him. He pulls off Jason’s gauntlets. 

A thrill of relief rolls through Dick – if any part of their uniform is removed without following the proper procedure, an alert is automatically broadcasted to the Batcave. Bruce will know that they’re in trouble and their location.

Thank Christ for Bruce’s trauma-induced paranoia.

But then Slade turns Jason’s wrist over, brings the soft inner part up to his nose and takes a long, obvious inhale. Jason makes a soft little dissenting noise and Dick growls.

Slade smirks at them. “He smells good.”

Dick struggles again, kicks out, throws himself against the ties, the primal need to get a threat away from his omega overwhelming any sense of strategy.

“Calm down, I haven’t got time to play with you,” Slade continues. He pulls out a second pair of zip ties and locks Jason and Dick’s wrists together so that Jason is on top of Dick’s lap.

Dick laces their fingers together, coos and rubs his face against Jason again. He projects comfort and non-threat as much as he can, which with Robin sandwiched and vulnerable between Nightwing and Deathstroke, can’t really be that reassuring.

Slade … backs off. “You two kids have fun now.”

And then he grabs a duffle bag and just leaves.

Dick waits, only not holding his breath because he’s been trained better. He waits for the other shoe to drop, for Slade to come back and put a bullet in one of them, for the police to burst in and accuse them of killing whoever owns this house.

There’s just. Silence.

Jason squirms in Dick’s lap, twitches, finally comes out of the haze of forced obedience. “Where’s?” He slurs.

“Deathstroke is gone. He tied us up together, little wing.”

Jason groans and drops his head forward onto Dick’s shoulder. Dick jostles it as casually as he can, shifts so that Jason’s head is as close to Dick’s scent glands as it’s going to get through their uniforms. Every part of him screams to get Jason tucked up safe and covered in Dick’s scent to warn off other alphas.

“Sorry Nightwing. Should’ve-”

Dick shushes him. “Hey, none of that. It’s fine Robin, seriously. Even Batman can’t beat Deathstroke half the time.” He pauses for maximum comedic effect for his shitty half-joke. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

Jason obligingly giggles. Christ, he’s such a good kid. Dick wants to drag him back to Dick’s den and curl up together with him and rub their scents together until everything stinks of pack and warm and safe. Dick nuzzles every bit of Jason that he can reach and it feels like the most natural thing in the world to drop kisses onto Jason’s cute little face.

Jason tenses for a moment and then absolutely melts. He makes the sweetest questioning sound and turns his head just enough that Dick’s next kiss glances off the corner of his mouth.

Dick swallows back a groan. Jason is so _soft_.

“You’re OK, you’re OK,” he whispers and kisses Jason again. Gentle, barely-there kisses – if Jason feels forced into this, like he has to do this to repay Dick or cement his place in the pack, Dick will up and turn himself into GCPD the instant that they’re free.

Dick never wants to hurt Jason.

“Nightwing,” Jason breathes, and Dick would have to be blind, deaf and dumb to not hear the longing in that exhalation.

“Only if you want to, never, never hurt you, you can say no, it’s fine, we can talk, anything is fine.” Dick’s not sure that he managed to get his point across there but he needs Jason to know.

Jason squeezes their joined hands. “I know,” he says and he’s so adorably shy that it makes Dick sigh in delight and kiss his darling mouth again.

“Come here sweetheart,” Dick slurs against Jason’s mouth, and wonder of wonders, Jason shifts, aligns their heads, pushes up onto his knees and kisses Dick.

It’s warm and just the sweet pressure of mouth against mouth and then Jason tilts his head and opens his mouth just a little and they turn it wet and slow and they’re pressed so close together that Dick can feel every moment of the shudder that works its way through Jason. Part of Dick wants to turn it fast and filthy, to bury his heads in Jason’s curls and haul his omega down onto his lap properly so that they can grind together, but his hands are tied – a flicker of thought actually feels thankful towards Slade for that fact – and he wants, needs so badly for Jason to not regret this, to look back on this moment with fondness if not delight, and so Dick keeps their kisses soft and slow.

Jason pulls away just enough to press their foreheads together. “What do you want out of this N?”

Several things flash through Dick’s mind and quickly paint a horrific picture. He thinks of what Crime Alley would do to and with a budding omega. He thinks about the information on black market suppressants and scent changers available in the slums that he’d dug out of the Batcomputer. He thinks about what a loving parent might do to protect their child in such a situation, and what would happen to their child once they weren’t able to continue to enforce that protection. 

Dick comes to the same conclusion that Bruce must have. Jesus, no wonder Bruce wants to keep Jason close to home these days.

“Hey, hey, no, sweetheart, we can stop any time, this is only, only do this if you want to, you can back off and I promise that I won’t be mad.”

Jason snorts and rolls his eyes. “Big bird, do you honestly think I’d be doing this if I didn’t want to?”

Maybe, if that’s what you’ve been conditioned to do, Dick thinks but doesn’t say. “You are pretty stubborn,” he jokes instead.

Jason tosses his head back and smirks, all spark and fire and every trait that Dick has always been attracted to. “Damn straight.”

Jason pours himself against Dick, and Dick groans at the sweet weight of omega in his lap, and they’re kissing.

“Baby, sweetheart, darling,” Dick pants between kisses. He moves over Jason’s mouth, licks the corner of his lips, nips his chin, and kisses along his jawline.

“Dick, Dick, Dick,” Jason calls back, his eyes fog over, and he tilts his head back so that Dick can get at all the really sensitive scent glands at the hinge of his jaw.

Dick nuzzles them, licks, sucks, kisses, lets the scent-taste of Jason roll over his tongue and down his throat.

Fuck, he’s so hard.

“You’re so good sweetheart,” he whispers into Jason’s neck.

Jason makes a soft, utterly delightful sound.

“That’s it, so good for me, such a good Robin, you’re so lovely when you fly.”

Jason pulls away, looks Dick in the eye – as much as they can look each other in the eye when they’re both wearing masks. “Really?”

The insecurity in his tone makes Dick want to croon. “You’re a wonderful Robin,” he reassures, nuzzles close. For Dick, verbal reassurance has always meant nothing if it didn’t come with touch. Touch means comfort, means family, means pack. 

Jason groans and grinds down against Dick. Dick grunts like he’s been hit. All he can smell is Jason’s slowly building arousal. It’s thick and syrupy and Dick wants so, so badly for his hands to be free, wants to bury his face between Jason’s thighs and eat him out until he cries for Dick to fuck him.

“Smell so good, feel so good,” he groans.

“Y-yeah?” Jason pants, devilish smile on his face. He leans forward and kisses Dick at the same time he gives a truly evil grind of his hips.

Dick nearly bites him. “Fuck!”

“N-not yet.”

“Thought I was supposed to be the funny one?” Dick pants between kisses and gentle nips to any part of Jason’s neck he can reach.

“It’s Robin’s job-” Jason’s voice cracks on Robin, it’s so cute “-to be the funny one.”

Dick can’t stop himself from grinning. He was worried, but it seems like Jason understands what Robin’s purpose is. “Consider me told.”

“Y-y-yeah.”

They kiss for a minute, then two, and Dick is so caught in the warm weight in his arms and on his lap and the taste and smell of aroused omega that he doesn’t notice the window opening.

“Robin.”

Batman. Bruce. He puts his hands on Jason’s back. Jason throws his head back and comes. The sight of him, the smell of him… Dick is helpless to do anything but curl up and come into his uniform.

Bruce leans forward and cuts their ties. Dick immediately gathers Jason to him and together they shake through the last of their orgasms. Bruce doesn’t say anything, just steadily strokes the length of Jason’s spine, his other hand warm and heavy on Dick’s shoulder.

Eventually things feel solid again.

“You bring the car?” Dick had planned on staying the night at the Manor anyway, but right now wild horses couldn’t tear him from Jason’s side.

“Yes.”

Bruce pulls Jason away, gathers him up into his arms and a large part of Dick wants to snarl and pull his omega back, but this is Bruce, this is the alpha of their pack, and Jason smells nearly as much of Bruce as he does of Dick and.

It’s easier to just go along with Bruce’s plan.

He bends down – his wrists twinge and he makes a mental note to check over Jason’s on the ride home – grabs Robin’s gauntlets and follows Batman and Robin out the window of the empty home.

He slips around Bruce and pulls open the door to the backseat of the Batmobile. Bruce doesn’t hesitate, just gently lays Jason on the seats. Dick climbs in and gathers Jason back onto his lap with one arm, fishes around in a side compartment for the first aid kit they keep there.

Bruce looks at them and Dick keeps his head down, tries to think of an excuse for his behaviour, but Bruce just nods and gets into the driver’s seat.

He has the slightest hint of a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a couple of people were wondering what Dick's thoughts were, so here they are. he 100% believes the fiction that Bruce has created


	4. 'Bout to get Attention from a Grown Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason and the thugs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: The sexual assault is very blatant in this one. 
> 
> Genuine apologies for how long this took to get out. I was in the hospital.

Jason don’t know what’s happening to him. Ever since Bruce brought him to live at Wayne Manor, his body has been … changing. And not like normal puberty changing either – at least, he doesn’t think so? He’d left his first school before they’d started sex ed, and Gotham Academy wraps shit up in so many metaphors and ambiguities, it’s impossible to get any actual concrete information out of them. Probably get their mothers all clutching their pearls and squealing about the children if someone dared to sit down and talk frankly about sex and presentation and all that. Even with all the prudish fluff they’ve been taught, they’re all still separated out into alpha, beta, omega and unpresented. Like some omega is going to faint should their delicate minds be assailed by the reality of an alpha wet dream.

Anyway. The point is. Jason’s body is doing some stuff and he doesn’t know why and it’s really starting to freak him the fuck out. He could Google it, but he doesn’t know what sort of monitoring software Bruce has set up on his computer – and he’d have to set up something, right? He’d want to know if the street trash he took in was Googling ‘how to make a bomb out of a rich dude’s kitchenware’ – and GA has some bullshit parentlock that he could get round in a second but they’ve probably got some alert on it and the last thing he wants is for Bruce to get pulled into some parent-teacher meeting because Jason’s Googled ‘so my balls are changing?????’ at school. 

He knows all the dirty jokes that go around about ‘mega guys. That they’re basically chicks, that they’ll have sex with anything that walks, that they’re stupid, useless, good for nothing but what’s between their legs. He knows that even before you present, there are signs of what you’re gonna be, and anyone who looks like they’ll be a ‘mega doesn’t last long in the Narrows. Jason’s not gonna be an omega – he’s probably a beta, like Mom and Willis are. 

Were.

They both were betas.

Anyway, his point is: His body is changing and Jason doesn’t know why. Or what it’s changing into. Omega guys don’t have balls, he’s heard that both as a joke and as fact. Jason has balls, has always had them, but now something’s weird with them. And he keeps on getting this weird pain deep in his belly, not hunger, Jason definitely knows how that feels and it’s not that. It’s deeper than that, and comes and goes, and sometimes it’s all Jason can do to keep standing. 

And! To make matters worse! He’s getting fat! He thought at first that it was just being fed all the awesome food that Alfred makes, all the protein shakes and smoothies that Bruce makes him before patrol. He’d thought that he was finally growing some muscle!

But nope, Jason’s just getting all… soft. He can feel the muscle, but it’s not obvious, like it is with Bruce or even with Dick. Jason has to tense and flex and suck in his gut before he can see any muscle definition, and they definitely don’t have to do that (he’s caught casual glances of Bruce in the showers, and the dude looks like a ripped version of da Vinci’s Vitruvian fucking Man. Jason’s getting more fit – he can feel it, exercises are coming easier, he can lift more and more weight, and he acts as freaking Robin every night which is one hell of a work out. It can’t be an age thing, the beta guys at GA that do sports are visibly muscular, so why isn’t he? 

(The worst thing is that the Robin suit is made to fit him perfectly. When he grows, Alfred has to change it – he’d apologised at first, but Alfred had just quirked a smile and told him that children his age were supposed to be growing like weeds and it meant that he and Bruce were doing their jobs properly. But the tunic is getting more and more tight around his fucking chest and stomach and the stupid not-panties cut into his stomach and legs and if Alfred has to change the suit because Jason’s growing fucking manboobs at the tender age of 15ish, Jason will throw himself into the sewer and to Killer Croc’s not-so-tender mercies.)

Robin’s supposed to be comforting for victims, sure, but he’s also supposed to be Batman’s partner, and that means being a certain amount of threatening. And even since Jason started noticing that the suit is getting tight, the comments that he gets from the people they beat up have … changed. It’s less ‘come over here birdy and I’ll break your knee caps!’ and more ‘look at that fat ass’.

Jason makes sure to hit those ones extra hard. Gross ass perverted creeps.

So of course, when he’s separated from Batman, knocked around and tied up, it’s by a group of the latter. He’s been kidnapped before, Two Face had been taking hostages once and he’d traded himself for a little girl. One of the few actual conversations that he’s had with Dick have been about the fact that Rogues will often try to distract Batman by tying up his partner somewhere precarious. He’s been trained by Dick and Bruce and even Babs in escape techniques. 

But all of them rely on people not paying attention to him.

And these creeps are definitely paying attention to him.

They’re just talking. Jason’s had some serious vitriol aimed at him when he’s stolen from someone, but he’s never had stuff like this aimed at him. It makes him want to curl up, to cover his body.

“Look at those cute little tits,” one perv says, staring right at Jason’s chest. And yeah, maybe there’s been a bit of a bump there the last few times that Jason’s put on the tunic, maybe Jason’s been so sensitive there lately that he can barely stand wearing a shirt half the time. He desperately wants to cross his arms but he can’t because these guys must have taken one too many cues from James Bond movies and have tied him spread eagle, face up on a table. There’s not even enough slack for him to lift his wrists or ankles more than a couple of inches up.

There’s a couple scattered further around the room, drinking and playing cards, a couple on nominal look out. But most are grouped loosely around him, staring right at him. Jason twitches. It’s not even really about escaping any more, Jason just wants them to stop looking at him.

A guy snorts. “His ass is better, but you idiots just had to tie him up this way, didn’t you?”

“Everyone knows that ‘megas have the best tits!”

I’m not an omega, Jason wants to scream. And even if he was, he’s still a kid, he’s still _obviously_ a kid, what the fuck is wrong with these guys that they’ll salivate over the slightest hint of puberty while ignoring the very obvious fact that Jason isn’t that old?

“He’s barely even a proper ‘mega yet. I bet there isn’t even any grass on the playing field yet!”

“Why, did ya wanna check?”

Jason freezes. 

The thugs laugh, and one punches the guy that’d spoken in the shoulder. None of them look disgusted, none of them are backing off. The room starts to stink of interested alpha and beta and Jason’s stomach drops.

“Touch me and Batman’ll kill you,” he hisses.

Someone laughs. “Kid, I don’t know if you’ve looked around or not-” he leans in, leers, his breath stinks of beer “-but Bats isn’t here.”

“Boss only said that we couldn’t kill him.”

“Never said nothing about not having a little fun.”

The ringleader glances over his shoulder to the others fucking around elsewhere and smirks. “Come on boys, what better revenge against the big bad Bat then having some fun with his little bitch?”

They all draw close. Jason squirms, thrashes as best he can, throws out any plan that relies on stealth because he needs to be out of here _now_. Someone undoes his utility belt, and Jason’s sickened by the gratefulness that wells up. Bruce’ll know where he is now. It’s just a matter of hanging out until he gets here.

Hands on his thighs. Jason snarls and tries to twist away. Laughter. 

“It’s OK, baby, just lie there and think of Batman,” someone coos. More people laugh, and a few beers are passed out.

“I don’t know about you all, but I wanna get my hands on those tits the little shit’s been taunting us with.”

They grab the edges of his tunic and pull. The catches hold for a long moment – Jason holds his breath – but they give and Jason’s lying there, spread eagle, armour torn and pinned underneath him.

Someone groans. “I thought omegas had big tits?”

“You’ve been watching too much porn, Paul.”

One of the guys from earlier reaches out. He pauses, hand hovering over Jason’s chest, and licks his lips. Jason tries to curl away as best he can, but the guy just snorts and.

Touches him.

His hands is gross and sticky. The guy curses. “He’s so _soft_.”

“There’s nothing even there to touch!”

“Nah, man, that’s just because he’s on his back. Look.” The guy pushes the sides of Jason’s pecs together, and yeah, OK, Jason’s nipples have been weirdly puffy lately and with all the fat he’s put on it does kind look like. 

Boobs.

Fuck. Jason has boobs.

_What the fuck is wrong with him?_

“Awww yeah, that’s the stuff.”

“Look at them little titties.”

Someone pinches his nipple and Jason cries out. It doesn’t hurt, it just feels weird, but these gross pervs are doing it and Jason feels like he’s going to be sick.

“Is someone sensitive?” one croons.

A different guy gropes him. His hands totally cover Jason’s boobs. He massages, rolls his fingers, and Jason wants to cry when he realises that it feels good.

“Just like a ‘mega. They cry and tell you no but as soon as you get your hands on them they turn into sluts.”

A few agree.

Jason shakes his head helplessly. He wraps his hands around the bits of rope he can reach and tries to pull back, to pull away.

“Aww no, don’t do that Robin.”

Someone runs his hands down Jason’s sides, too firmly for it to tickle, but Jason’s sick and muscle still flinch and try to pull away. Another guy laughs and squeezes one of Jason’s nipples.

“Don’t!”

“Sssh, baby. You’re going to feel so good. Just like a good little omega whore.”

Jason wants to be angry. But he’s mostly scared. He knows Batman has taught him how to get out of situations like this, but he just can’t think of anything.

Bruce is going to be so disappointed. He won’t let Jason be Robin any more. Dick and Babs are going to say that they always knew that Jason wasn’t cut out to be Robin, that this is just confirming for them that Jason always was and always is gonna be just a stain on Robin’s legacy.

A couple of them runs their hands up and down Jason’s thighs. One digs his thumbs hard into the muscle of Jason’s inner thigh and Jason yelps, his hips automatically hitch up to try and release the pressure.

They all laugh.

“Well someone’s cock hungry.”

“You know ‘megas. Once you get started with them, they start dripping and all they can think about is getting their cunts filled up.”

“Is that what you want, baby?”

Jason frantically shakes his head no. He’s just grateful that none of them have tried to get his mask off so that none of them can see when he starts to cry.

“Don’t be like that, baby.”

“Yeah, there’s enough here that even an omega’s pussy’ll be satisfied.”

“We’ll fill you up but good, birdy.”

“Do you think Batman fucks him before they start?”

More fucking laughter. “I bet his cunt’ll already be full of come.”

“Is that right, baby? Does your Daddy feed your little pussy before you go out for the night?”

Someone swears. They’re all blurring together. “Christ, Frank, tone it down, no one wants to hear you spew that crap.”

More hands on his thighs. They tug off his pants and.

Stop.

Silence.

“What the fuck?” One breathes.

“That’s … not right.”

“What sort of freak are you?”

Then, thankfully, there’s the familiar hiss of a smoke grenade, and Jason can relax, can just lie there and cry while Batman beats the shit out of the thugs. 

And wonder.

Just what the fuck is wrong with him?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's it for this fic. The commenters have talked (typed?) me into making this a series, so if this is up your alley please subscribe to that. Next will be a cute little fic in which Jason and Bruce have sex, fight, and break up. Then this 'verse's version of A Death in the Family takes place. Then there'll be two fics, one in which the Lazarus Pit returns Jason to his natural alpha state, and angst occurs, the other in which he remains an omega, and angst occurs. Both are equally canon and so you can choose which you'd prefer.

**Author's Note:**

> If you happened to notice any spelling/grammar issues, please alert me in the comments.


End file.
